


Sherlock's Strategy (Version 1)

by thelookyouredoingthelookagain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Choose Your Own Adventure, Confession, Explicit Sexual Content, Jealousy, M/M, Sherlock Tricks John, Sherlock Wants John To Love Him, Sherlock's Trick Gets Out Of His Control, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-11 09:58:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2063775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelookyouredoingthelookagain/pseuds/thelookyouredoingthelookagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock knows he and John belong together and decides he's waited long enough for John to also figure it out. He comes up with a strategy to force John to face the facts. A Choose-Your-Own-Adventure Johnlock story! Start the story and then decide which way you want it to go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sherlock Has Made A Decision

**Author's Note:**

> All works here were produced by two friends in the fandom. One writes as SH and one as John, and we edit together. Our characters are based on the BBC's _Sherlock_ , though we don't mind playing a little loosely with canon and the occasional AU. We have whims and like to follow them. While we like to torture our boys with constant misunderstandings, we know they belong together and we always see to that.
> 
> All posted works are complete, and we hope there will be something for everyone. Please take a look at our other works. Just a note, though, there's pretty much always going to be smut. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst, but always smut. We can't help it: that's just the way we are.
> 
> We plan to add new work each weekend, so please subscribe. 
> 
> We also really appreciate the kudos and comments --they mean so much. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Sherlock had made the decision: he'd gone along with John's stupidity long enough.

From the minute Sherlock had seen John in the lab that day with Mike, he'd known something was different about him. He'd been able to read John's recent past, true, but he'd also read something else: John was going to be important in his life.

And so he'd invited him to share the flat. And then he'd invited him on a case. And then John had seen right through Sherlock's self-destructive urge to be clever -- not only saving his life but saving him from himself. Sherlock knew he'd been right about John.

As time passed, they grew closer. Sherlock had opened up to John in ways he'd never opened up to anyone else -- slowly, yes, but still. John made Sherlock _feel_ and what's more, on occasion, Sherlock had even _shared_ those feelings with John. He called him his friend, he felt sad when John felt sad, he worked hard to minimise any hurt he caused John. Yes, John made him _work_ and even though it sometimes scared Sherlock to be so vulnerable, he pretty much loved every minute of it.

Because he loved John.

It hadn't taken him long to realise -- though it took a little longer for him to accept -- but it was true. It was all true. Sherlock loved John. And he wanted John to love him.

Yet, John didn't. John kept chasing women, kept dating women, sometimes bringing them back to the flat and making Sherlock watch their awkward interactions. John also seemed to enjoy whinging to Sherlock about the lack of love in his life. Over and over, John would come to Sherlock about his dating woes -- without ever acknowledging that the perfect partner was staring him right in the face.

Sherlock had done his best to let John figure it out himself. Not everyone was as quick at deduction as he was, Sherlock knew that. But he could take it no longer. Something had to be done.

Now, of course, Sherlock being Sherlock, he wasn't going to just discuss this with John -- tell him his feelings and offer his heart. That would be too simple. Instead he came up with a plan. And tonight he was going to put it into action.

__________________________________________

_**If you're in the mood for silliness, please go to Chapter 2.** _

_**If you're in the mood for angst**_ , [**please click here**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2063736/chapters/4486128).


	2. Sherlock Sets His Plan In Motion

Sherlock glanced at the clock. He expected John home in five minutes so he stood up from his chair, moved to the kitchen and put the kettle on before going into his room.

John had been in a sour mood all day and was just grateful to be finally be away from work. He walked into the flat, hanging his coat and toeing off his shoes.

"Sherlock? I'm home," he called.

"In my room," Sherlock called. He emerged a second later. Although he'd spent all day in his pajamas and dressing gown, he was now looking freshly pressed in his purple shirt and a very smart suit. "Kettle's just gone -- I thought you'd want a cup." He poured John's tea, carrying it over to the sofa where John was sitting. He walked over to the mirror and fiddled a bit with his hair.

John did a double take when Sherlock came out. "Do you have a case or something?" John asked, taking a sip from his mug. "Should I get my coat on again?"

"No, no case," Sherlock said, "I'm just . . . going out." He finally just gave his head a little shake, letting his curls fall where they may. He turned around. "I'd assumed you had a date -- there's nothing here for dinner."

"Oh. I can order something -- why are you going out?" John asked. He felt jealous all of a sudden. Who was Sherlock going out with if not with John? Stupid really, as John didn't want to go out, but he so enjoyed the adventures the two of them had together and he didn't want to miss anything.

"Just a date -- no one you know," he smiled lightly and then moved his coat. "I'll see you," he called as he went out the door, leaving John no more time for questions.

That was key to Sherlock's plan: disorient John. John was so used to seeing Sherlock only in one way. Granted, it was the way in which Sherlock had introduced himself -- aloof, married to his work and, well, devoid of any interest in sexual matters. But that wasn't who Sherlock was or at least wasn't who Sherlock was now. So he had to jolt John into a new perspective. By letting him think Sherlock had a date.

Which, of course, he didn't. Sherlock didn't have any interest in anyone besides John, and he didn't really fancy drawing anyone else into what he secretly recognised was both an extreme and childish way of handling this dilemma. He glanced back towards the flat as he walked down Baker Street, picturing John upstairs a bit dumbfounded by the idea that Sherlock Holmes was out on a date. This would work, Sherlock thought. He was sure of it.

John watched him leave, his mouth hanging open slightly. This was definitely not what he'd been expecting to come home to. He shook his head at Sherlock's unpredictability and moved to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea.

Sherlock headed over to the posh restaurant where he knew John frequently took dates he particularly wanted to impress. He stopped and got himself some chips and then went round the back of the restaurant and climbed up to sit on its fire escape. He knew that, on the slight chance John wanted to investigate Sherlock's disappearance this evening, he'd surely contact Mycroft who would immediately track his phone and thus have to report this restaurant as Sherlock's location. Sometimes Sherlock was just a little too pleased with his own cleverness.

Once he'd finished his chips, he crumpled up the bag and aimed it at the bin to his left. He threw it and then pulled out a packet of cigarettes.

"You missed," said a voice.

Sherlock looked over and saw a young man, leaning against the restaurant's backdoor. He was dressed in white and looked a bit messy.

"Sorry," Sherlock mumbled, jumping down and picking up the bag to put in the bin.

"Have you got a light?" the man asked.

"Yes," Sherlock said, handing him his lighter and then lighting one of his own.

"Yusef," the man said.

"Sherlock," Sherlock said back.

"You look a bit overdressed to be eating a bag of chips in an alley," Yusef said.

"Uh, I'm working," Sherlock said, taking a drag.

"You a detective?"

"Actually, I am," Sherlock said, smiling a little. "You a chef?"

"I am," Yusef said. "Wow, you figured that out fast -- you must be brilliant," he added sarcastically. "Just kidding."

"What's the best meal you make?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, they're all good, obviously," the chef said, "but my signature is a smoked salmon pate with these cucumber crackers. It's fucking fantastic." He threw down his cigarette. "You coming in?" he asked.

"No, not tonight," Sherlock said. "Enjoy the rest of your evening."

"You as well," said Yusef, going back inside.

Sherlock climbed back up the fire escape and checked his phone. No messages. He read the paper online a while, doing the crosswords. Eventually, he looked at his watch and realised it was time to move on. He jumped down from the fire escape and walked around the front of the restaurant. He went inside and walked in. 

"Do you have a reservation?" the woman asked him. 

"I'd just like to sit at the bar," he said. He walked over and ordered a glass of red wine. He asked the bartender what the chef's name was. 

"Yusef Ahmed -- why? Was there a problem with your meal?" the bartender asked, pushing a glass towards Sherlock.

"No, in fact, it was the best meal I've ever eaten. Please pass that information on to the manager," he said, lifting the glass to his mouth and drinking the entire thing in one go. "Thank you," he said and then began the walk home.

He was looking forward to it really -- he couldn't wait to see the look on John's face. He secretly liked when John was confused because he loved watching that moment when John figured something out. And this time, he'd be figuring out that he was in love with Sherlock. What wasn't there to look forward to?  
  
John had ordered himself some Chinese and had actually enjoyed the silence of the flat after such a busy day at the surgery. When he caught himself unable to stay awake on the sofa, he gave up and went up to bed.

When Sherlock got home, he quietly moved into the flat, but John was nowhere to be found. He looked up to John's door, which was shut. Okay, not a problem -- Sherlock could improvise. He undid a few buttons on his shirt and, looking in the mirror, deliberately messed up his hair. He moved back to the front door, opened it and then closed it again too loudly. He pretended to stumble a bit as he walked to John's door, knocking loudly. "John, you're still awake, aren't you?"

John groaned at the sound of Sherlock's voice and turned to face the door. He had no idea what time it was as he propped himself on his elbow. "What, Sherlock? It's the middle of the night," he complained. 

"Is it?" Sherlock said. "I lost track of time . . . I just wanted to chat." Hmmm . . . why wasn't John taking the bait? "Um . . . something happened on my date and I just wanted to get your advice . . ." There -- that should be sufficiently intriguing to a man who, Sherlock was sure, was sick with jealousy.

"Oh," John said, sitting up properly now. "Yeah, sure."

Sherlock came into John's room. John looked so lovely in his bed -- sleepy-eyed with his hair a bit messy. Sherlock wished that John would just admit his feelings and then Sherlock could crawl in with him. But John just stared up at him, waiting. "Um . . . right," Sherlock said. "Did you have a good evening? I'm sorry I had to leave straight away, it seems strange not to have talked to you all night." He sat down on the edge of John's bed.

"Oh yeah. I just ordered Chinese and watched some telly for a bit. Nothing exciting. Not like your night obviously," John smiled. "Tell me about your date," he added.

"Well," Sherlock said, looking over at John who looked too eager and not enough jealous for Sherlock's liking. "We just went to a fancy restaurant, I guess." Then he remembered he was supposed to be asking a question. His mind raced to find one. "Um . . . John, could I ask . . . I know you go out all the time, but how do you decide whether or not you want to keep seeing the person?"

"Did you have a good time?" John asked, smiling lightly. He realised he didn't know if was a man or a woman but he figured he'd ask later.

"Yes," Sherlock said and tried to make a cheeky smile. He thought about rubbing his chin or his wrists, but that might be too much, so he just added, "We had a very good time" and let it hang there. "But you have good times too and it doesn't always work out. So maybe I should just leave it."

"No, I have good times that rush into other activities and then it doesn't work out," John explained. "If you had fun you should go again," he smiled.

"Do you mean sex-related things? You rush into sex-related things?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah," John nodded, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Why?" Sherlock asked, trying to quickly decide what he would should say about his date if this topic turned back to him.

John shrugged. "Sometimes that's all you want, some fun for the night. And in the morning you realise maybe you're not as into them as you thought." 

"So in the morning I might know? Maybe I shouldn't decide now then, if I'll know in the morning," Sherlock said. He hadn't planned for this to involve more than one pretend date, but now it was feeling like that might be a possibility.

"I meant the morning you wake up with them -- are they here now?" John asked, not knowing how he felt about that.

"No, we . . . went back to theirs . . . well, anyway, perhaps things will be clearer in the morning. I guess I'll go to bed then," Sherlock said, but he didn't make a move to go. 

"You went over there and left already? Did you sneak out? That's not a good sign of wanting to see them again," he said.

"I didn't sneak out!" Sherlock said. "What kind of date do you think I am? I just wanted to come back, to sleep here. I don't think that's so unusual," he turned and moved himself a little closer to John. "Do you think that's so unusual?"

"Well . . . usually you sleep there. I'm usually tired and don't have the energy to leave until morning," John said.

"Interesting . . . for someone who masturbates so frequently, I wouldn't have thought it'd tire you out so quickly," Sherlock said. "I don't feel tired at all." Surely, _that_ comment would push John over the edge. Sherlock swallowed softly and prepared for John's admission.

"It's different with someone else -- more involved," John said with a shrug. "You didn't want to stay with them after? To cuddle or something?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes but then directly at John. "Can you imagine me cuddling?" he said. He didn't look away but thought to himself, _Please imagine it, John. Imagine it right now and realise that it's precisely what you want._

John rolled his eyes and chuckled softly. "It can be very comfortable, Sherlock. It's nice sleeping so close with someone after you've shared something like that."

Sherlock didn't want to hear about that business -- not about John and other people. "Yet you say you don't really like them? I don't understand . . . "

"It's hard to explain. Comfort feels good even if you're not going to marry the person," he smiled.

"Don't you feel comfort here? Is that what all your dates have been about -- just getting short term comfort because things here are so horrible?" Sherlock was a bit confused and spoke before remembering his plan.

"What? No," John shook his head. "It's different, Sherlock. A date can offer you more intimate things -- holding you while you sleep, that sort of thing." It was odd that Sherlock was trying to compare his dating with their friendship. He didn't know what to make of it. 

Sherlock realised that his hope of opening John's eyes had not worked as he had assumed. He needed more time to think. "All right then," he said quietly, moving up off the bed. "Well, I'm glad I came home. I'll decide about another date after I have a sleep." He stopped at the door. "Thanks for talking to me. I'll see you in the morning." He gave John a little smile.

"Any time. I'm glad you had a good time," John smiled. He shifted to lay back down again.


	3. Sherlock Adapts His Strategy

Sherlock pulled John's door shut behind and got himself a glass of water before getting ready for bed. He went into his room, lay down and stared up at the ceiling. Had he read everything entirely wrong? No, he literally shook his head -- of course, he wasn't wrong. About he and John belonging together, at least. But he perhaps he had misjudged John's tolerance for jealousy. After all, he had just gone out once -- John went out once all the time. He needed to up the ante. He needed to do something John hadn't done.

Well, John had slept with some of his dates -- Sherlock didn't like thinking about that, because his own tolerance for jealousy was incredibly low. But he had let John assume Sherlock had shagged his date as well, so he obviously needed to go even further. He reached over and pulled his laptop on the bed and began working on the second phase of his strategy.

For a few minutes John lay awake and wondered what was happening. Sherlock had never shown any interest in this sort of thing before. Perhaps having allowed John into his life had helped him open up a bit to other experiences. There was a small gnawing in his gut, but John ignored it and smiled softly. He was glad to have helped. He turned on his side and closed his eyes, falling asleep quickly.

Once everything was in place, Sherlock was able to fall asleep. He woke to a loud banging at the door but ignored it to force John to get up. Once he heard John's feet pad down the stairs and the short conversation at the door, he slipped on his dressing gown and came out. He looked up to see John standing there holding a large bouquet of exotic flowers. "Oh John," he said smiling, "you shouldn't have." He put the kettle on and then turned back around. "Hold on, is that a paradise plant?" He walked over and took the bouquet from John. He inhaled near one of the flowers and then dug around for the little envelope. He opened it, smiled, and set it down on the table. "Well, that's nice," he muttered softly to himself and then looked around the kitchen for a vase to the put the flowers in.

John blinked several times at the flowers and, while Sherlock was making tea, he glanced at the card. Another gnawing feeling. "Typically you send her flowers," he teased, moving around Sherlock to start making breakfast. "You must have really rocked her world," he smiled.

"Whose?" Sherlock said.

"The woman who sent the flowers -- wasn't she your date?"

"What woman?" Sherlock asked as he poured two cups of tea. Then he glanced down at the card and smiled, "No, Daphne's not a woman's name -- well, it is . . . but not this time. Daphne's the name of the plant. We were talking about it last night. It's poisonous." He leaned down and smelled the flowers again. "Very clever indeed," he mumbled to himself. "I suppose this deserves a second date, eh?" he said to John.

"Oh. Yes I would say so," John smiled. "What was your date's name?"

"Um . . . " Sherlock couldn't believe he had forgotten to plan for this detail. "Yusef," he grabbed for the first man's name that came to his mind. "Yusef," he said again, more certainly.

"Nice," John smiled. "You should call him. I'll take my breakfast out there so you can talk in peace." He moved into the sitting room and sat in his chair. He was listening but trying to look like he wasn't.

Sherlock picked up his phone and dialed Mycroft's number. "Thank you for the Daphne," he said.

"Really, Sherlock? You're still going through with this? I got your email last night and almost sent Lestrade around to drug test you," Mycroft said. "Doctor John Watson is of the heterosexual persuasion and you are of the incapable-of-a-relationship persuasion. You are courting disaster, brother."

"Well, I suppose, there's one way to find out," Sherlock said.

"No, Sherlock, with you, there are a thousand ways to find out and you have picked the most ridiculous one to try," Mycroft said.

"Sure, I think that sounds great -- I'll see you this evening then?" Sherlock said.

"Fine," Mycroft said, "Anthea's on her way but Sherlock, please limit my involvement in this scheme and know that I am not really interested in its results." He hung up the phone.

Sherlock said, "And thank you again, Yusef -- for a lovely evening and the beautiful flowers."

Sherlock stood up and poured himself another cup of tea. He took it into the living room with John and sat down on the sofa. "Well, it looks like I've got a second date," he said.

"That's great," John smiled. "Another dinner? You should put your purple shirt on," he added.

"I wore that last night -- why? What's so special about my purple shirt?" Sherlock asked. Aha -- Sherlock _knew_ John fancied him in that purple shirt and John had practically just admitted it! But before John had a chance to answer, there was a knock at the door. Sherlock stood up to open it and saw Anthea standing there with an envelope. She handed it to Sherlock and said, "The information you requested."

Sherlock took the envelope and shut the door. He moved over to the desk and slowly opened it.

"Who was that?" John asked, looking for the remote.

"Anthea, you know -- Mycroft's . . . whatever she is," Sherlock said. "I needed to be sure I could trust Yusef . . . I mean, if he's going to be helping me on cases and all." There -- that was surely it. Sherlock had now properly upped the ante.

"Oh, is he coming on cases with us as well?" John asked, the gnawing in his stomach getting much worse.

"Well, he and I are . . . kind of working on something already. With Mycroft -- that's how we met. I just wanted a little background on him. Do you think that's too distrustful?" Sherlock pulled the pages out of the envelope, keeping them angled away from John so he couldn't see. They were mostly blank sheets -- some with a few random scribbles from Mycroft about Sherlock's immaturity and the pitfalls of being in a relationship. Sherlock pretended to scan them and then put them back in the envelope and stuck it in his desk door, which -- for the first time since John had lived with him -- he then locked shut. "Well, I feel better now," he said standing up and moving over nearer to John. "It's good to know who you're working with. And sleeping with as well, I guess." He flopped onto the sofa and put this feet up on the table.

John found he hated that -- the working part -- but he supposed now that it made sense. "Good. Maybe we should go on a double date some time," he suggested. "I would like to meet him."

What? thought Sherlock. Why was John doing this? The whole point of this plan was to make John so jealous that he would finally admit that he loved Sherlock. And now he was going to force Sherlock to sit and watch him fawning over some woman? That would be torturous. But he found himself agreeing anyway. "Sure," he said, "that'd be fine." Then he came up with an idea. "Why don't you ask Molly out? I'm sure she'd love to come and I don't doubt she's available on short notice. Should we make it tonight then?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll call her after my shower," John said.

Sherlock went into his room and quickly rang Molly.

"Molly, it's Sherlock. I need something from you," he said.

"I know it's you, Sherlock, your number came up on --"

"Molly, listen to me," Sherlock said, his voice hushed. "John is going to ring you in a few minutes and ask you to come out on a date tonight. I need you to say yes."  
  
"Sherlock, I'm sorry I can't," Molly said, her voice sounding almost as disappointed as Sherlock began to feel.

"Molly, you know I don't ask very much from you," Sherlock said, despite the fact that both of them knew that to be a barefaced lie. "It's extremely important." Sherlock could not face doing this if John were going to be on a real date with a woman he might actually end up having sex with.

"Sherlock, I'd love to but I can't. My brother's in town and --"  
  
"Molly, please," Sherlock begged. "Wait? Your brother? How old is he?"

"What? Twenty-nine. Why?"

"He doesn't happen to be Asian, does he?" Sherlock asked. "It doesn't matter. I will treat you and your brother to dinner at the restaurant of your choosing if you and he will do one small favour for me."

"Should I be worried about what that small favour is?" Molly asked even though both she and Sherlock already knew she'd do it.

"No, you shouldn't be worried. Can the three of us meet up in a few minutes? In the meantime, if John calls, tell him yes," Sherlock said. He quickly got dressed and left the flat before John got out of his shower.

Luckily Molly's brother was extremely handsome. Sherlock wasn't precisely forthcoming in his motivation for this date; instead, he claimed that John had been struggling with his sexuality and Sherlock wanted to show him an example of a gay couple on a date to put John's mind at ease.

"But I'm not gay," Molly's brother said.

Sherlock gave him a once over and read that that wasn't quite true. But he didn't mention his findings. Instead, he said, "I appreciate that. That's why I'm asking this favour. John is not really interested in Molly -- sorry, Molly," he added, glancing over at her," so in many ways this whole evening is a bit of a show. Molly and John will pretend to be on a heterosexual date and you and I can pretend we're on a gay one. There may be a bit of handholding and maybe a quick kiss, but, I promise you, that's as far as the sexual activity will go. Because we already had sex last night. In the hypothetical situation, I mean."  
  
"So John thinks you have a boyfriend and you want my brother to pretend to be him?" Molly asked outright.

Sherlock's cheeks felt warm but he said, "Yes."

Molly and her brother looked at each other. "What do you think?" she said.

"I'm game," her brother answered. "It'll be like acting practice." He turned to Sherlock and said, "I'm in the theatre."

Sherlock gave him one of his sarcastic smiles and turned to Molly. "Tell me honestly, is there any way John is likely to believe that your brother's name is Yusef?"  
  
Molly rolled her eyes. "Sherlock, why do you always have to make everything so complicated? Call him Joe. It's the English version of Yusef."

"All right," Sherlock said. He looked at the brother. "For tonight, your name is Joe."

"But my name _is_ Joe," said Molly's brother, Joe.

"Whatever," Sherlock said and turned on his heels calling, "We'll see you at the flat at eight." He rushed home as fast as he could.

John finished his breakfast and went to take a shower. He didn't like this very much, but he assumed it was because Sherlock had mentioned Yusef working with them. He felt a bit threatened, but he tried not to think too much about that. Sherlock wouldn't stop taking John with him on cases just because of a boyfriend, would he? When he got out of the shower he found he was feeling a bit grumpy. He called Molly to ask her to come out tonight. She agreed happily and John hung up, realising suddenly Sherlock wasn't home.

_Molly said she'd come. I told her seven -- is that okay? -JW_

_Fine. We'll be there._

Sherlock was typing as he was walking and then he realised that he was already at the flat's door. So he went inside and said, "Fine. About tonight, I mean. Sorry, I just nipped out for a quick haircut. I want to look my best and all." He moved over to put the kettle on. "Have a good shower?"

John narrowed his eyes a bit because his hair didn't look any different at all. But he didn't mention anything about that. "Yes, just a quick one so I can look somewhat presentable tonight," he smiled. "I'm going up to change in a bit. Did you tell Molly about your date? She didn't seem too surprised," he pointed out.

"I might have mentioned him," Sherlock said. "Actually, she met him already. A couple days ago . . . when we were at the lab. Yes, that's right. That happened." He poured two cups of tea and handed one to John. "I'm sure you'll look presentable. More than presentable. You always look quite handsome, John." He smiled.

John's stomach warmed at the compliment, and he smiled softly. He felt like Sherlock's timeline of his romance didn't make much sense, but he didn't question that either. He took the tea from him and shrugged. "I still want to make myself look a bit nicer than normal."

"No need to impress Molly, you know," Sherlock said. "Well, I think I'll work in my room for a bit." Sherlock needed to get his head straight before this all happened. He headed off. "Let me know if you need anything."

"Sure," John nodded. He brought his tea up to his room with him and looked through the closet for a long time. As he went through his clothes, he realised he was drifting towards things Sherlock had commented on before. Well, if the most observant man in the world tells you something looks good, perhaps you should listen.

He put on dark jeans, a navy button up shirt and a cream colored jumper. Then he took off the jumper and he put on a sweater vest instead. He felt like nothing was working right, but he decided on that and headed back down again. It was almost time and he was getting very nervous for some reason.

In his room, Sherlock went over the story. Then he was seized with a thought that made himself a bit sick to his stomach: he should have just spoken to John like a normal person would. He hadn't wanted to get anyone else involved and now Mycroft, Molly and even her brother whom Sherlock had just met were all involved. Now it was definitely a trick, whereas originally it was just a scheme -- there was a subtle difference, but it felt important. But now he was in the middle of the whole thing, and he had to see it through. Perhaps there was still hope that his original idea would play out: maybe now that John knew Sherlock was interested in sex and maybe when he saw Sherlock with someone else, maybe John would realise how perfect they were for each other. How very much they belonged together. He nipped into the shower to clear his head and then emerged, dressed, to meet John in the sitting room.

"See? I told you you'd look handsome," he said.

"You look pretty good yourself," John smiled. "Is everyone meeting at the restaurant?"

"No, here, I think," Sherlock said. "Didn't you say Molly was heading over here?" He looked up at the clock, just as he heard a knock downstairs. "I'll get it," he said, rushing down. He met Molly and Joe and then led them up. Molly's brother looked quite handsome and Molly, well, she looked like she normally did. When they came in, Sherlock said, "This is John. John, this is Yusef, but you can call him Joe." Sherlock kept his hand on Joe's lower back.

"It's great to meet you," John smiled. His name didn't seem to suit him but he didn't mention that. He shook Joe's hand and smiled at Molly. "You look nice. It's good to see you again."

"Thanks, John. Shall we go, then?" Molly suggested.

"Yes, I'm starved," John said, moving towards the door. Suddenly John was in a rush to get to the dinner conversation, so he could learn more about this guy. He watched the way Sherlock touched his back and it was . . . well, the gnawing returned to his stomach.


	4. The Double Date

They headed out to the restaurant. Sherlock held Joe's hand as they walked. He tried to behave in a way that he'd imagine he'd behave if they had really had sex the night before, but then he realised he was overthinking and probably overacting. So he said, "I was telling John you were going to help with that case." He glanced over at Joe.

"I'm happy to," Joe said, catching on. "It definitely seems like you can't handle it entirely on your own."  
  
Sherlock wasn't keen on that response, but he tried to keep his face neutral. Was that a dig at his investigative skills? Or maybe it was supposed to be some kind of sex-related comment? Regardless, he wasn't keen. So he said, "John's helped me with a lot of cases, hasn't he, Molly?"  
  
Molly looked a bit puzzled and just said, "Um, yes?"

"Yes," Sherlock said. "John has been really important to my work." He looked over at John. "But now I have Joe . . ." he let his voice trail off. 

The hand holding was a but much, John thought, before realising it was a normal thing to do. He didn't like it. Then that last comment registered with John and the gnawing in his stomach turned into a proper, twisting mess. He didn't say anything, looking around the street they were on. He could feel Molly's eyes on him, but he refused to look at her.

Sherlock opened the door and held it for the others. They waited for a table, Sherlock occasionally touching Joe's arm or shoulder or fiddling with his hair. It was so stupid really -- John was standing right there and it was John Sherlock wanted to touch. But he had started this so he had to finish it.

When they were seated, Sherlock sat next to Joe and across from John. He said, "I'd like to get everyone's dinner tonight. Since it's a special occasion." He reached over and touched Joe's hand, but he looked at John.

Special occasion? John thought. It was just a second date and a double one at that, so it wasn't even intimate. He pressed his lips and nodded. "That's very nice of you," he said. He had the wild urge to slap Joe's hand off the table.

"I'm glad you suggested this, John," Sherlock said. "I'm glad you got a chance to meet him. The thing is, Mycroft -- he's known Joe awhile and he really thinks . . . we work well together." He realised he should probably look over at Joe so he did. Joe dropped his hand to Sherlock's thigh, which Sherlock did not like one bit, but he continued. "He was talking about sending us off together somewhere possibly."

"For a case?" John asked quietly, clearing his throat a bit. He just barely held back the 'alone?' from the question. He took a slow breath and looked at Joe. "I'm . . .take good notes for me -- I have readers to please," he smiled.

Molly looked around the table uncomfortably.

"This isn't something for the blog, John," Sherlock said. "Top secret -- confidential." 

Joe said, "Just for me and Sherlock."  
  
Sherlock turned towards Joe, trying to tell him to shut up with his eyes while also looking lovingly at him.

John looked at Joe and wanted to hit his face. "Oh. Well that's okay," he said, shrugging lightly.

Molly looked over at Sherlock and shook her head very lightly.

The waiter came, and everyone ordered their food. "Shall we get wine?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes," Joe said. "Perhaps you'll get a bit tipsy again, like last night." He leaned over and nuzzled Sherlock's neck.

John didn't really join in the conversation. Didn't that guy have any sense of politeness? Why would he be so forward at the table?

Sherlock tried to ignore Joe's response and ordered a bottle of wine. "So Molly," he said, "how was your day? Anything new at the hospital?"

"Not really," Molly said, trying not to watch her brother. This was all so odd.

The waiter brought the wine and Sherlock was grateful. He felt so wound up that he was happy for something else to focus on. He took a sip and then sat back a little in his chair, trying to relax a bit.

John took too much in his first sip, having to remind himself to calm down a bit. When the food arrived, he sat mixing it about on his plate. "So, Joe, what do you do?" He didn't look up when he asked.

"Chemistry, like me," Sherlock jumped in. "Poisons are his specialty. That's how he knew about the flowers." He turned to Joe."Because you put Daphne on the card, John thought you were a woman." He smiled and hoped Joe would catch on. 

"No, John," Joe said. "I'm definitely not a woman."  
  
"Daphne?" Molly said. "Like Daphne and Apollo?"  
  
"Yes, Molly, thank you," Sherlock said. "Anyway, Joe, again, the flowers were very thoughtful."

John looked pointedly to Molly. "What about Daphne and Apollo? What's the story?"

Molly glanced at Sherlock but answered, "Cupid shoots them both with arrows so they'll fall in love. Apollo gets a golden arrow and falls madly in love, but Daphne gets a leaden one so she despises Apollo and the whole stupid game Cupid plays." She look a bite of her meal. "That's it, isn't it, Sherlock?" 

"Yes, Molly, as I said, thank you -- thank you for that brief lesson in mythology," Sherlock answered as he poured a little more wine into everyone's glasses. The bottle was empty, so he got the waiter's attention and ordered another. He hadn't really touched his food; he wasn't the slightest bit hungry. He tried to sneak a few glances at John, who didn't seem to be enjoying the dinner but also didn't seem to be ready to fight Joe for Sherlock's hand either. Sherlock's whole strategy had been a disaster, and he was embarrassed and worried about how they'd ever go back to normal now.

And, of course, it was at that moment that Joe decided to go rogue and embrace his role fully by saying, "I'm glad we got this chance to meet, John. I know I've not known Sherlock long, but it's important to me that you know that even though I'll be taking him away from you, we'll still want to have you in our lives." He leaned over and kissed Sherlock's mouth. "When we get back from Paris, I mean -- or wasn't I supposed to tell John we're going to Paris? I can't help it -- I'm excited, it's so romantic." He looked round the table as if he were expecting a standing ovation for his performance.

The gnawing in John's stomach twisted so violently he was sure he was going to be sick. He pushed his chair back very suddenly, roughly enough to knock Molly's elbow. "I need . . . sorry . . . excuse us for just a moment," he mumbled, looking to Sherlock. "Bathroom, please," he said, getting up and walking away without waiting to see if he was following. His face was burning -- he was embarrassed and angry. He _hated_ Joe and finally he understood why.


	5. The Truth Comes Out

Sherlock stood up awkwardly and shot an angry look at Molly, even though he knew that no one but himself was to blame for this mess. He followed John to the back of the restaurant and tried to quickly come up with the least humiliating explanation for the stupid, stupid mistake he had made. His brain just didn't seem to be very helpful at the moment.

"I don't like him," John said, not offering any kind of explanation or reason. He was pacing a bit and clenching his hands.

"Why?" Sherlock said, because he didn't know what else to say. "Don't you think he's handsome?"

John didn't say anything, but continued pacing.

"Mycroft sent the info over -- he's been cleared, he's trustworthy," Sherlock said, wondering why he was continuing the charade before remembering it was because he was an utter coward. "John, your opinion is important to me -- why don't you like him?" he said quietly.

"I . . ." John stopped pacing and kept his eyes on the ground. "You're mine . . . I mean . . .I don't want him to take you away." Those had been the words that had set him off.

"John . . . I . . . ," Sherlock stepped closer, but words didn't come.

John looked up. "You just met. Why is he going on cases with you and . . . and . . .secret missions and . . . making out with you," he finished, not realising he was on a case with Sherlock hours after meeting him.

"I-I- isn't it just like me and you? Except for the other stuff . . . and that's like you and all your dates . . . all the time. You want them -- why can't someone want me?" Sherlock stammered.

"That's not . . . I didn't mean it like that. I . . ." John rubbed his face hard. "I want you," he mumbled.

"What did you say?" Sherlock asked, taking another step closer.

"I...I want you," he said quietly. His eyes were fixed on the floor.

Sherlock lifted his hands and held John's waist. "Like . . . that, you mean? Are you sure?"

John flushed lightly and nodded. "Yes. I want you to be mine," he murmured.

Sherlock dropped his head and kissed John's mouth. He meant it to be a soft kiss but immediately it became more urgent. There was nothing in Sherlock's head -- not about how long he had waited or about his ridiculous scheme -- nothing in there, but this moment, this kiss. His hands moved behind John's back and he pulled their bodies together.

John hummed in surprise, pressing into the kiss and holding him tightly. It was wonderful -- his heart exploded through his body. He pulled Sherlock's hips desperately.

"John, you're the one I want," he whispered pulling back from the kiss. "I was waiting so long . . . for you." He kissed John again.

John pulled back a bit. "You're with- -- you're on a date," he said quietly.

"So are you," Sherlock said, smiling and leaning in again for a quick kiss.

John turned his head so Sherlock got his cheek. "No, I'm on a fake date," he said, looking back at him. "You're on a proper date..."

"It doesn't matter," Sherlock said. "This is what I want -- why I did all this. I just wanted you to see . . ." He couldn't look at him. "Let's go home, John, let's go home now."

"Sherlock, you can't just leave him here," John said. "Wait . . . what do you mean? What did you do?" The gnawing in his stomach reared up, and he pressed back into the sink.

"It's all right, John . . . it was pretend so . . . so you could see that I was interested in that type of thing. I mean -- with you," Sherlock explained. "It's all right -- we can go home now," he reached over for John's hand.

John pulled his hand away and pushed Sherlock back a bit. "Pretend?" He slipped away and stepped back. "Why wouldn't you just tell me? Why would you think that dating someone else would make me think that?"

"But I didn't date anyone else! I just went out by myself and I never even would have met Molly's brother if you hadn't insisted on this stupid double date. What does it matter? It's sorted now," Sherlock said, reaching for him again.

"No!" John stepped away from him again. Molly's brother? John couldn't wrap his head around it. "How -- don't put this on me! You faked this -- all of this -- all I wanted to do was meet who was making you so happy!" He felt tricked and embarrassed to have fallen for it. "How could you do this?"

Sherlock's face flushed. "John, _you_ make me happy but you wouldn't see it. I just wanted to make you see . . . please, forgive me, I just . . . I just want to be the one who makes you happy. Please -- let's just go home."

"And this was your plan? You couldn't just talk to me?" He moved to the door and shook his head. "I'm going home. I don't -- don't follow me." He turned and left the bathroom, passing the table without a glance and hailing a cab. He couldn't believe it -- after that kiss -- to find out it was all a trick.

Sherlock rushed to the table. "Thank you, sorry," he mumbled to Molly and Joe and left a wad of money with them. He hurried out to get a cab.

_I am following you. SH_

_Of course, I couldn't just talk to you. You know me. I don't do that. SH_

_Please, John, forgive me. If what you said was true, please just be with me. SH_

_Leave me alone. How could you do that to me? -JW_

John stormed upstairs and closed himself in his room. He was panting and trying to work it all out. He didn't understand.

Sherlock stared at the message. The cab turned onto Baker Street.

_Because I'm in love with you and I've never felt this way and I don't know what's the right thing to do. SH_

It was entirely the truth. Not part of a strategy, not something he had spent all night trying to perfectly plan. Just entirely the truth. He hit Send. He paid the driver, got out of the cab, and walked upstairs into the flat.

_And how did you think pretending to be in love with someone else would work? You tricked me. -JW_

John tossed the phone onto the bed and rubbed his face hard. He hated to admit that it had worked -- his jealousy had made him admit his feelings.

Sherlock read the message. He took off his coat and walked up to John's bedroom door, but didn't open it or even knock.

"I did trick you, John, and I'm sorry," Sherlock said. "You are so different . . . you mean so much more to me than anyone has ever meant . . . and when I realised how I felt, I just wanted you to feel it too and I know I should have just spoken to you, but . . . I'm not good at that. I'm good at strategies, plans, and I thought this would help. But it hasn't. It got out of my control and it turned into a trick and it hurt you and that's not what I wanted. All I wanted . . . was for you to love me back. I'm . . . so sorry, John." He stared into the wood of the door.

"I do," John said. "I . . . I do love you but this wasn't . . I mean,what am I supposed to say about this -- after all this pretending you've been doing? How do I know if what you're saying now is true?"

"John," Sherlock said softly. "You've met Sherlock Holmes, yes? Think about him. Let everything you know about him flash through your mind. Think about how stupidly awkward he was just telling you that he considered you his friend. Now try to imagine him saying more, try imagine him starting a conversation about sentiment, about love -- it's hard to imagine it, isn't it? Think about Sherlock Holmes, John -- would he _ever_ do something so incredibly awkward as all this was, unless there was a really good and painfully honest reason for him to do it?"

John looked towards Sherlock's voice and blinked. He rubbed his face hard and moved over to the door, pulling it open. He stared up at Sherlock. He was so handsome and pathetically awkward. He reached up and touched his face, stroking lightly before lowering his hand. "You could have asked me on a date," he said quietly.

"John," Sherlock whispered. "I-I am so, so sorry I can't do the things you expect . . . please forgive me." He lifted his hand to reach over and hold John's.

"I didn't expect this. I just . . . don't trick me like that. I thought . . . I didn't like the thought of someone taking you away." He shifted to hold Sherlock's hand properly.

"No one will ever take me away from you -- we belong together. Like you said . . . I'm yours," Sherlock said, stepping towards him and holding his hands even tighter.

John pulled him down and kissed him hard, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's neck.

"John," Sherlock exhaled against the kiss. He wrapped his arms around John's back and held him. He kissed John's mouth, like he had been starving for him.

John moaned softly, both hands burying into Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock deepened the kiss and then took a few steps forward, moving John backwards toward the bed. He helped John lower himself until he was flat on the mattress and Sherlock melted down on top of him. He moaned softly against John's ear, "I want this to be a part of us now . . . please." He gripped John's hip and moved down to suck on his neck.

John groaned and nodded, arching up against him. "How long . . . have you felt this way?"

"A long time," Sherlock said, moving his hand under John's jumper and then trying to lift it over his head. "I've watched you go on twenty six dates since the moment I knew for sure. It's been torture." He moved his hand to John's belt and started unbuckling it.

"I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry if you felt half of what I felt tonight," he murmured, shifting to help get his clothes off. He moved his hands around to pull at Sherlock's clothes, quickly working off his shirt and moving to his trousers.

Sherlock leaned up to help John get his clothes off. Once they were naked, Sherlock looked down and kissed John's mouth hard again, his hands sliding down to John's hips. He immediately began to rock against him. "I've not done this in such a long time, John, but . . . I want . . . so much," he moaned softly.

John hadn't done this with a man ever, but he didn't mention it. He bucked up, his own hands gripping Sherlock's arse and pulling him down hard. "I want you too, Sherlock."

"We'll be all right, John . . . just do what feels good," Sherlock said. He reached down and wrapped his hands around John's cock and started a slow stroke as he kissed John's mouth again.

"Together," John breathed, bucking into his hand. He wrapped his hand around Sherlock's cock, and then around the both of them.

Sherlock took a sharp inhale at the touch of John's hand. He didn't know how long he could last and then he decided he didn't care. He let his body go -- his hips pushing himself into John's hand as his fist moved on John's cock. "God," he called out much too loudly, "god, John, I . . ."

"You what?" John breathed, pushing into his hand.

"I'm . . . not going to last very long," Sherlock said, smiling awkwardly at him and leaning down to kiss his face again. "I love you so much . . ." He closed his eyes and again. "Don't stop --" He was so close.

"I love you, too," John breathed.

"John," Sherlock called out and suddenly his body jerked and he felt himself spill over John's hand. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his mouth hard against John's neck. He mumbled John's name over and over.

John followed just a second later, moaning his name and speeding up his hand to make sure that nothing stopped -- that nothing changed until he was slumping into the mattress, murmuring softly.

"It was better . . . better than I'd imagined," Sherlock panted, lifting his head and looking at John. He took a deep breath. "And I've imagined a lot," he said, smiling cheekily.

John flushed lightly but grinned all the same. "Well, now it's my turn for an experiment to see if I can live up to all that," he said.

"You said no more experiments," Sherlock whispered. He looked up at him. "John Watson, I will do everything in my power to make you as happy as you make me. I promise you. I promise."

"I'll rephrase to no more secret, hurtful experiments," John said. He shifted to get them both more comfortable and then kissed his mouth softly. "Just be honest with me, okay?"

Sherlock wiggled to sit himself up a bit. "Let me be honest now then," he said. He looked down at John and cleared his throat a little. "You . . . are a much better lay than Yusef ever was," he pulled a face at him.

John shoved him lightly. "That's not funny," he grumbled.

"Do you think that we should cuddle now?" Sherlock said, trying to scoot them a little up the bed. "Like you said last night . . . because we just shared that . . ."

John nodded. "We should cuddle because the thought of being away from you is truly awful," he smiled, shifting to allow a better spot for Sherlock.

Sherlock curled himself around John. "I won't sneak out," he said, his voice starting to sound quite sleepy. "You won't get rid of me that easily -- besides I live here, don't forget. You won't have to be away from me, John. Ever." He gave John a squeeze. "Last night I sat on this bed and willed you to picture imagine cuddling me. And now you are. And it all feels so very . . . right."


End file.
